


Release

by shenanygans



Series: The Whip Hand Chronicles [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Drug Addiction, F/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenanygans/pseuds/shenanygans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She visited again.</p><p>The Woman, as I’ve taken to calling her. Sherlock Holmes. She paid me another visit. It only took her four fucking months to do it. But I think we had a rather memorable reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

**Author's Note:**

> This is taken directly from and RP I've done with the lovely Fandomlife on Tumblr. Ian also has his own personal blog on tumblr called ianwhiphandadler and he would love it if you paid him a visit.
> 
> As I've already mentioned, this is straight from the RP with little alterations so there might be a few errors in it. I beg your forgiveness, but we were too lazy to edit it all.

Ian Adler sat at his desk in the private office of his club, idly scrolling through e-mails and articles. Occasionally his eye went to the small ivory business card, with its delicate raised black ink, that had sat neatly propped against one of his speakers for going on four months. That led his eye to the space on his whip rack that remained unoccupied for the same amount of time. He’d greatly enjoyed introducing the beautiful brunette detective to his lifestyle, and had hoped she would return for more. Like so many, though, it appeared his scene was simply too much for her, and he hadn’t seen her since that day. That didn’t mean that the memory of her, porcelain skin and defiant eyes, bound on the desk right where his hands rested, had faded one bit. Quite the contrary. Every time he sat down to conduct professional business, he could practically smell and taste her there. On a whim, he pulled up her website and was pleased to see that her strangler case had been solved although he went uncited as one of her professional resources. More’s the pity, it could have brought him business, but it probably wasn’t the type of business he wanted.

After the strangler case, Sherlock hadn’t received many cases. Well, she was /offered/ cases but none of them was what she needed. They were all too simple, too dull! Out of desperation, she took a few murder cases from the Yard but if they had just bothered to do their jobs, they could have solved them herself. It was not a good time for her. The chaos of her own mind was threatening to consume her once again. Usually during these times, Sherlock would turn to the needle for a blissful oblivion. But that would mean another visit from her brother, talking about if she needed another stint in rehab. That wasn’t an option. Grabbing her coat, she decided to go on a walk. It would keep her out of the flat at least—and the needles. That’s when she saw the crop among the umbrellas. /Ian/. Sherlock put on her coat and grabbed a cab to Ian’s club.

It was late afternoon and Ian was just wrapping up with a client, a lovely politician’s daughter who enjoyed a rather imaginitive student/teacher kink, when his assistant tapped on the door of his performance chamber. “Master there’s someone here to see you, a woman.” He rolled his eyes. Another unscheduled visitor, probably some bored housewife wanting to have her fanny smacked a bit since she was too ashamed to ask her husband about it. “Set her up with Ianto, I need a drink,” he said through the door as he finished wrapping up a length of rope. “She’s asked for you specifically, sir,” Jeremy said through the the door. “I don’t care if she’s asked for the Queen of fucking England, Jeremy, I’m not taking anyone unscheduled and if you persist I will take your session off my roster for the next month.” In an ordinary setting, the threat of a beating would be exactly what motivated an employee to get the lead out of their arse but in Jeremy’s case, he was red and purple and welted under his smart three-piece suit from the regular whippings he most thoroughly enjoyed. “It’s her, Ian. The Woman.” Jeremy /never/ broke character, but in this instance, it was necessary to get his boss’s attention. There was a long pause while Ian looked at the door, as if able to stare a hole in it. “Put her in my office. I’ll be right there.”

Sherlock was lead to Ian’s office, the memory of her last visit once again resurfacing from the depths of her mind. She bit her lip, dismissing the man and taking a seat at his desk. His chair in fact. That’s when she noticed her card propped up against the computer speaker. She smirked. So he had been thinking about her, had he? Sherlock wouldn’t admit that after their meeting, she had some very vivid dreams or that she experimented with the crop a few times. It wasn’t the same though and she pushed it out of her mind. She needed to focus on her work after all.

Ian took his time, tidying his suit and hair, straightening the cuffs of his gloves, and knocking back a few fingers of Scotch before moving from one chamber into another. He stepped into his office, hands in his pockets, blue eyes alight immediately with amusement at the sight of her, trying to take control of his space. “Ms. Holmes. How lovely to see you again,” he purred as he strolled across the room, stepping behind his desk and leaning on it, unafraid to invade her personal space as he looked down at her. “I thought perhaps we’d… gotten off .. on the wrong foot before. I see you solved your case.”

“Thank you for your help.” Sherlock’s tone was cool and professional. “I was able to track him down before he killed again.” She could smell the fresh scent of scotch on his breath and his kept up appearance. “I hope I didn’t disturb you while you were working.”

“Congratulations are in order, then. Job well done,” he said casually, crossing his ankles and settling against the edge of the desk. “No disturbance at all, I just finished with a client and my diary is free for a bit. I confess I don’t normally take unscheduled guests but…” he reached over and plucked her card from his desk, requiring his lean body to stretch across her field of vision. “There are a few exceptions to every rule.”

Sherlock smirked, “No need to try and seduce me, Mr. Adler.” And then her smile fell. For a second, there was a bit of vulnerability in her eyes before she pushed it back, returning her mask. “I actually have come for your services. I found it….interesting.” If it could keep her away from the drugs, she would do it.

He gave her a wry smirk at her words. “Ah, but Ms. Holmes, seduction is my trade. It’s my craft, my livelihood. Seduction is what keeps good Scotch in my cabinet and fine clothes on my back. So you must excuse me if it has become a bit, shall we say, force of habit.” He flicked her card between his fingers while giving her an appraising look. She didn’t look as sharp and vibrant as she had before. Skin pale but not luminous. Eyes calculating but not as intense or deep. He remembered her mentioning a drug habit during their previous encounter and wondered if she’d gone back to it. “My services,” he said after a long moment. “I had hoped you’d come back far sooner, if you found my services to be of such interest, Ms. Holmes. Your case is closed, so obviously this isn’t a professional visit. What changed your mind?”

There was no point in lying to him or keeping it hidden. She had already revealed her past to him before. “I want to stay clean. The drugs were a way for me to….cope. I thought this might work instead.” Sherlock could tell he was reading her in his own way. Ian could read people, but not the way she read them. He read emotions and desires; she read details and facts. And right now she wasn’t strong enough to keep everything under control.

He sat watching her a long moment. “You live and breathe tightly-monitored self control. You want to let go. Drugs numbed you but they didn’t truly help did they? That’s why you, unlike any other junkie in the world, are choosing not to go back to them. You want to let go, release control, give it to someone for safekeeping, and be able to take it back on like a suit jacket once you’ve had your fun, is that right?”

Sherlock nodded, “More or less.” She wasn’t used to revealing such intimate details about herself. “The cases and experiments keep my mind occupied. But once I don’t have that mental stimulation….Things get messy.”

Ian gave an unusually unmasked, soft smile. “Ms. Holmes, trust when I say I understand.” He reached across and put her card back in its place before folding his hands on his lap and looking down at her. “I suppose we should discuss what you’re looking for, and what I can offer you then. You have had a sample, obviously, of my main area of interest and expertise. I am a Dom, I have a few personal pets, and a regular stream of clients with varying interests. I deal in fantasy, Ms. Holmes, providing a physical manifestation of the darker reaches of the human sexual psyche. I do it consensually, professionally, and safely. Anything in your pretty head that conflicts with the ideas of consent and safety are off the table. Do I make myself clear?”

Another nod. “What we did before was fine…..It worked.” When she had gone home, everything in her mind was clear and calm. She was better able to organize her mind, put together the rooms of her palace, and she even had a breakthrough with one of her experiments. “You can take me on as a client.” It was professional that way; less personal. “Whatever your rates are, I’m fine with them.”

Ian ran his hand thoughtfully across his desk where she was previously bound. “You enjoyed being tied up, relinquishing control, letting me probe and push and test your interests and your limits.” He smiled. “I think we can work out an arrangement that suits your needs just fine, then. Perhaps after you’ve gotten accustomed to being bound regularly we can explore other techniques, poses, and combinations of actions that will undoubtedly enhance your experience.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to be bound /regularly/.” This was just a one time thing. An experiment. Sherlock was simply at a weak point and was willing to do what she needed to stay away from the drugs. This wouldn’t become a habit.

He frowned and clicked his tongue. “Well, Ms. Holmes, that is a shame. I rather hoped we would be able to enjoy each other on a semi-regular basis. But, if you only require the one time, I shall indulge you to your heart, mind, and body’s content.”

“I don’t want this to become a habit.” Sherlock stood up and headed for the changing room she had used last time.

“More’s the pity,” he said after her. He went to the closet to select his preferred ropes and an arrangement of tools and toys to use with her as he had previously. He enjoyed what he did, picking people apart mentally and emotionally and sorting through the miasma of their everyday thoughts to get to the balls of what they really wanted and Sherlock was no exception. What did seem curious was how his prick twitched at the thought of having his hands on her again. With careful concentration he willed his arousal down and away, needing to focus on the woman in his changing room.

Sherlock once more stripped out of her layers of clothing, once more exposed to this man. This was far more risky than their previous encounter. She wasn’t as strong this time. Biting her lip, Sherlock once again remembered the safe word she had used before. Wasp. And then she stepped out, her eyes sweeping over the familiar red rope.

“Just as beautiful as I remember,” he said genuinely as she stepped out, naked, dark curls spilling over one shoulder. She was thinner though, her ribs showing under translucent skin, hip bones protruding more prominently, collarbones more stark in their relief along the plane of her shoulders. She was overworked, underfed, overtired, and needing an escape. It made him think tenderly of her and he hoped he could help. “Now. I am going to tie you into the body harness as we did before. But I think this time I’ll try something a bit different with the rest of you,” he said as he unbound the largest of the red masses of rope. “Same safe word as before?”

Sherlock nodded, “Wasp.” She stepped up to him and held her arms out, her eyes never leaving his.

He said nothing, but held her gaze, a quiet smile on his lips as he looped the rope over her neck, letting it hang between her shoulders, guiding her hands to hold it in place as she’d done before. “Good girl,” he said quietly. He worked quickly, quietly, and efficiently tie the knot blocks down her chest and belly, loop the rope between her thighs, and then thread the ends over and through, around and cinch, over and over until the last ties were fastened at her hips. He noted, due to her weight loss, that he had a few inches of rope left over and he fought to mask the deep frown of concern, deciding to carry on. “Comfortable? he asked once the last tie was tightened.

“Yes, it’s not too tight.” But tight enough. Sherlock noted his concern over his weight. “I’m fine, Ian.”

He stood up straight, his professional mask firmly in place now. He wasn’t often addressed by his first name in this room. “It’ll be Sir, until I take these ropes off. Do you understand?” He cupped her chin and the slight height difference allowed him to look down into her eyes, pleased to see that spark of defiance burning in them.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in surprise, “Yes…./Sir/.”

“Good girl. Left arm please.” he took another length of rope sliced it in half with his pocket knife, and wound a tall cuff up her wrist, with a quick release knot and an attachment loop. “Now the right.” He applied the same tie to her right wrist, checking the tightness and breathability of each one. Tying, to him, was as much an art form as a science and as important to him in his sexual explorations as the sex itself. “Ankles now. Would you prefer to sit or stand for this part?”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this and it excited her. “I’ll stand.” While he worked, Sherlock examined each knot and binding. Very skilled work.

“Very well.” He knelt at her feet, bringing one foot up to rest on his shoulder while he tied a similar binding her ankle, then switching to the other. Once done, he led her to a separate room just off of his office, one he reserved for private use only. “This is my private chamber. It’s best equipped for what I have planned for you,” he said in explanation, knowing her prior agreement was that anything they did was performed in his office space.

“Okay.” As long as it was only them, she was fine. But what did he need in here that they couldn’t do out there? The cuffs had enough weight to them to remind her that whatever it was, she’d be immobilized.

He led her to a simple rack that was already fixed with a number of lengths and colors of rope, each with different knots and clips serving many hundreds of purposes. While she looked on, pondering what could be coming, he took her arms and crossed them behind her back, forearms aligned, while dipping his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck. “I’m going to suspend you from that. You’ll be completely secure, completely immobilized, and swinging freely.”

Sherlock closed her eyes and nodded in understanding. Her heart rate increased a bit at the thought of being suspended. There were so many options, so many ways he could….She licked her lips at the possibilities.

He could feel her pulse increase while his fingers were at her wrists, and smell her arousal. He took a chance and gave her a swat on the bottom with the palm of his leather-gloved hand before guiding her toward the rack. “I’ll be securing your arms to the back of the harness, and tying another set of rope around your shoulders and upper chest for your comfort and safety.” When she nodded in acknowledgement, he did as he said, binding her wrists to the back line of her harness and then wrapping a 50-foot length of rope around her shoulders, enough to make a secure, wide column that he could affix to the rack. “You’ll be face down when we’re done. A simple hair tie can help keep your head elevated if need be.” He thought about the idea of her beautiful black curls bound up in his scarlet red rope and it made him smile. “Good girl,” he praised as the ties came together around her shoulders and wrists. He backed her up to the rack and fitted a series of clips to the hanging loops at her shoulders and wrists.

Sherlock took another deep breath, knowing that she would be suspended in a moment. Her eyes never left where Ian’s hands were working, tying her to the rack.

He could feel her quaking in anticipation and it made him smile. “Alright so far? You needn’t be silent, darling, sometimes people feel the most free and able to speak when the body is bound.” He took an extra-long length of rope and fed it through a pulley system in the rack, then slid his hands down her upper arms, down her sides, thighs and calves as he knelt at her feet. He hooked one end of his rope through one ankle loop, then repeated with the other, up through the ties of her harness, and back up through the remainder of the pulleys. “This apparatus will slowly draw your feet off the ground, bringing you into position,” he spoke clearly as he began to pull the ropes. “Your feet will come up and you’ll hang suspended until you’re level with the ground, then your legs will bend at the knee until you’re in the position of a hog-tie. If at any time it becomes painful, you may use the word Crimson to warn me and we’ll pause and correct the error. If you wish to stop entirely, use your established safe word.”

“I understand.” Sherlock said quietly. “How many people use this room with you?” She really didn’t care to know, but she liked the sound of his voice. It was deep and warm. She’d never tell him that though.

“This is my room to use exclusively for my private endeavors. We have other rooms throughout the club which my associates and I use for the general public. Some are observation room, some completely private. All of them are similarly equipped though some of them have special exceptions for certain clientele’s desires.” He spoke smoothly and evenly while he slowly drew her up off the floor and into position, and as her legs came up and bent to the pressure of the rope system, he noticed a few old marks on her legs. “You’ve cropped yourself,” He said in observation. “Did you like it?”

“It was an experiment,” Sherlock said, turning her head to look up at him. She had to strain a bit, but other than that she wasn’t uncomfortable. The pulley had been slow enough for her to adjust to the change gradually. “Not particularly….” It was just normal pain.

He caught her eye as he fastened the pulley ropes to the rack, double and triple checking their stability. She looked gorgeous, naked and bound and hanging there completely at his mercy. “Sometimes self-experiment works, sometimes not.” He shrugged and walked to the rack of toys, selecting a long, flexible crop with a flat leather flap on the tip. “Sometimes, you need an expert.”

She noticed his arousal as he walked back to her. Ian certainly enjoyed his work. Looking over the crop for a moment, Sherlock nodded her head, giving him permission. If it didn’t work out, she had her safe word after all.

He fisted a hand in her hair and drew her head up, arching her neck gracefully as he traced the tip of the crop over her impossibly sharp cheekbones, then down her throat, then under her suspended body. “Cropping isn’t just for anyone and shouldn’t just be done /by/ anyone. It requires the exact amount—” he gave a light slap to her left nipple with the flat of the crop’s tip, “— of pressure to incite pleasure that borders on pain,—” He moved the crop and gave the opposite nipple the same treatment, “—pain that borders on pleasure. Do you agree?”

Sherlock’s body immediately jerked to the sudden contact. She gasped, the slight pain from the crop mixed with the signals of pleasure she got from the rope between the folds of her sex. It was….interesting.

“I asked you a question,” he said as he continued to trace the crop down, under her breasts, across her belly, giving her navel a light slap. “Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Yes…../Sir/.” Sherlock kept her voice even, despite the elevation in pitch.

“Good girl,” he said, letting the side of the leather tip scrape down her belly further, before giving another slap to the skin at the lowest reach of her belly.

Another gasp, followed by soft moan. Sherlock closed her eyes, feeling the tight ropes around her body. The feel of leather against her skin.

He walked behind her, pressed her thighs apart, and took a moment to admire her damp flesh, already soaking through the rope. He let the flat of the crop tip slide across her folds, the way a tongue would.

Sherlock shuddered when she felt the leather gliding across her sex. However, that was all she could do about it.

“How do you feel, Sherlock? Tell me.” He let the leather stroke along her sex a few more times, delighting in how she shuddered.

“Fine,” she said quickly, taking another deep breath. The ropes around her chest made that slightly difficult though.

“Oh, come now, you must give more more than ‘fine’ to go on. Aroused? Afraid? In control, out of control, in pain, wanting more pain…” His voice dropped as he spoke. He gave a light tap to her labia after he went silent. “Tell me!” He said sharply.

“Aroused,” Sherlock said immediately, her voice slightly breathy. “Definitely aroused.” She wouldn’t mention control yet.

“Good girl,” he said as he smoothed the crop over her once again. “What do you want. What do you desire, what does your blood scream for?”

“I….I don’t know.” Another shudder passed through Sherlock’s body. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Deciding to take a different approach, he set the crop aside and sat on the ground just below her, tipping his head up and facing her. “Sherlock. I want you to be pleasured. I want you to be excited. I want you to forget your troubles, let your body and your mind be free.” He took his gloves off and reached up to stroke his thumb over her impossibly plush lips. “Safe, sane, consensual, and a big part of that is communication. I can experiment on you until Armageddon comes, but I need to know what you like, what you want, so I can incorporate it into what I want. I’m not just here to tie up and beat and fuck my subjects, I am genuinely interested in pushing boundaries and making them pleasurable.”

Sherlock frowned, not opening her eyes to look at him. “I don’t know!” she growled, frustrated. What did she want? She wanted to her mind to be calmed. She wanted to stop thinking so god damn much! When Ian’s fingers brushed over her lips, her mouth parted slightly and she tried to extend her neck, to be closer to his touch….

“Shh. Shh, I’m not trying to upset you. I want you to think. I want you to relax, let the ropes hold you, and think. You spend so much of your time thinking about every other fucking thing in the world. Think for you, for a second.” He took note of her reach and gave in, spreading his long fingers across her cheek and holding it there, giving her something to support her head against if nothing else.

For a few minutes, Sherlock was silent. She focused on the warmth of his hands, the slight callouses on his fingers from years of working with rope and whips. Finally, she said, “Heat. Touch. Pressure.”

“Good. That’s good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, then down to her lips again. “You’ve got to give up control if you want this experiment to be successful. You’ve got to just… let your mind run wild. This is a safe area and as your Master I am here to take care of you as much as you are to take care of me. Even if this is just a one off, those are the positions we find ourselves in and they come with responsibilities. Do you understand?” His free hand came up and twisted through a few of her curls.

Let her mind run wild? He didn’t know what he was asking of her. For a moment, Sherlock nearly used her safe word. But where would that leave her? Instead, she focused on his hands and whispered, “Yes.”

“Do you like my hands, Sherlock? They’re capable of such cruelty, and yet such tenderness.” His thumb swiped her lower lip again, pressing in, seeking her tongue for a moment.

She licked the pad of this thumb as she finally opened her eyes to look at him. She held his gaze as she licked him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the feel of her soft, sweet tongue shooting up the nerves of his arm and going straight to his groin. “You have a gorgeous mouth. I can’t tell if I want to listen to you talk or watch it wrap around my prick,” he said honestly, holding her gaze.

That’s when she let her teeth graze the skin of his thumb. A warning.

“Naughty,” He said with an amused grin. He leaned closer to her face, putting pressure on her teeth and holding her jaw firmly. “I like being bitten,” he said before tipping his face up to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, then grazing his teeth in a gentle nip. “Anywhere and everywhere. So I don’t take that as a challenge, Sherlock, I take it as an invitation. Be cautious of what you ask for.” He released her jaw, removing his thumb from her mouth and stroking her lip again.

Sherlock once again closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations on her lips, the ropes around her body.

He removed his hands from her face, trailing calloused fingertips down her neck, over her shoulders, across her breasts, to give her nipples a bit of attention, tugging and twisting and tweaking and stroking, like a safecracker trying to find the right dial combination he listened keenly to the sounds she made, watched the thrum of her pulse in her throat.

She moaned a bit louder this time, enjoying his touch more than she wanted him to see. Being suspended left her in no way to move into the touch. She was at his complete mercy.

“That’s it. Let it go. Let it out. Give in.” He pinched harder, twisted more firmly, yearning to draw those sounds out of her, watch her pretty face contort in pleasure and pain.

“Fuck!” she cried out, followed by another moan. She struggled against the ropes, trying to feel more. More heat, more touch, more pressure. “Ian….”

“Sir,” he reminded her with an even more forceful tug.

Sherlock groaned, but didn’t call him by his name again. Or Sir, either.

“I am not your boyfriend, your lover, your fuck buddy. I am your Master and while you are in my chamber you will address me appropriately, Sherlock Holmes, or I will cut you loose and send you on your way, /do I make myself clear/” It wasn’t a question. He caught her jaw again, his blue eyes gone a stormy grey, mouth set in a hard line.

“Yes Sir.”

Ian stood up, needing to be away from her face and eyes for a few minutes. It was disturbing how easily he lost control when her eyes were boring down into his. He retrieved the crop again and without warning, brought it down across her backside. Not expressly hard, enough to sting, and get her attention. “That was for defying me.”

Once again, Sherlock’s body jerked against the response. However, it didn’t sting enough to make her eyes water. “Yes Sir.”

“Now you’re getting it.” He gave the same smack to her other arse cheek, enjoying the way her body jumped, making her bonds tighten while she struggled.

Once again, the pain and pleasure signals to her brain became jumbled. Her mind was beginning to unravel.

He soothed her skin with a gentle touch of his warm palm, smoothing over her bare bottom, smiling in delight as red lines formed from the crop. As quickly as his hand was there, though, it was gone, replaced with another set of licks from the crop, one on each side, striping her backside.

Sherlock was panting now, the ropes forcing her to take only short breaths. A light layer of sweat covered her entire body.

“Shhh. Breathe. Can’t enjoy a good cropping if you’re turning hypoxic on me,” he murmured as he smoothed over her reddening skin again. “You magnificent woman,” he said softly. “You love this.”

Fuck, she did. Sherlock let her head hang down as she took a few more breaths, calming herself. There was a pleasant warmth on her backside and she didn’t need to see to know it was bright red.

He waited until her breath had calmed before smoothing the tip of the crop down the lines he’d slapped into her beautiful bottom, then trailed the flat tip down the cleft of her arse and across her labia, glistening and engorged from arousal. The ropes were saturated and likely the only thing keeping her sweet fluids from winding up all over the floor.

“Touch me,” Sherlock whispered.

“Speak up.”

“Touch me,” She said, raising her voice for him to hear her clearly.

“Touch you where,” he said, winding her up. “And you know better, Sherlock, you know the magic word.”

“Everywhere….Sir.” Anywhere. She just wanted to feel him. “Please.”

“Good girl,” he said as he set the crop aside. He moved around the rack and pulled up a rolling stool, settling onto it so that his face was directly lined up with her glistening cunt, and his fingertips stroked the insides of her thighs. “Here?” he asked coyly. “This is what you want, isn’t it? My fingers, touching you. My tongue tasting you. Lips sucking you. Cock penetrating you and filling you up. That’s what you want isn’t it, you naughty, wanton thing.”

Sherlock moaned loudly as he talked. “Yes…please…..”

He turned his head and bit the inside of her thigh with sharp, straight teeth.

She cried out at the sudden bite. “Yes Sir!”

His tongue slid across her skin, the scent of her arousal so close to his mouth almost unbearable, making his trousers tighten.

Her body trembled expectantly.

He turned his head again, doing the same to the opposite thigh, while his hands reached up and slid along her belly, supporting her body and stroking her skin.

The muscles of her abdomen twitched beneath his hand as he caressed her. She felt her body burning up, consuming her. It was heavenly.

He leaned close to her sex and blew a cool breath across her folds, watching her shiver. “Tell me, Sherlock. Tell me you want this,” he murmured, so close, but not touching her. “Beg me.”

She was too far gone to even think about resisting. “Please, Sir,” she begged, “Please touch me.”

He slid his hands down, thumbs parting her folds, his tongue touching - just touching, not stroking, not probing, just… touching the swell of her clit.

“Please…..”

“You taste like heaven,” he murmured before licking a stripe the entire length of her folds, dipping between the ropes.

Sherlock moaned again, wishing she could move her hips into the touch.

His thumbs dug between the ropes and spread them, letting them help hold her labia apart while his tongue and lips attacked her clit with gusto, sucking and lapping and nipping at it for a long minute.

If Sherlock had anything to say, she wouldn’t be able to. Her cries of pleasure were incoherent under Ian’s skilled tongue.

The sound of her cries was music to his ears, her pulse able to be felt in her throbbing cunt, her body quaking in need. He chuckled softly against the delicate bundle of nerves he was busy tormenting before pulling away. “Such a shame you only want to do this once,’ he murmured as he brushed his lips against her folds. “I could taste you every day.” He lapped up the excess fluid that was accumulating along her folds, moving further up to press his tongue against her arse hole, remembering how she’d squirmed when he rimmed her previously.

“Oh, god!” Did she really only need to do this once? Would her pride let her come back?

While his tongue busied itself, his fingers slid through her extraordinarily wet folds and easily found their way inside her, two of them sliding to the hilt in one stroke.

Sherlock tried to rock her hips against his fingers and groaned in frustration.

He countered by pushing deeper into her, which made her begin to sway on her bindings. He pushed hard into her, then pulled out slightly, letting the weight of her body bring her back to center, which brought her down on his fingers.

She moaned gratefully, but still wasn’t enough.

“Tell me what you want, Sherlock,” he said as he pressed hard into her again, curling his fingers against her g-spot as they slid out again.

“I want you to fuck me,” she bit back another moan, “Sir….but I don’t want to be hanging like this when you do.”

He licked her again, twisting his fingers inside her before asking. “Where would you have me fuck you then, Mm? Shall I cut you down and fuck you into a boneless heap right here on the floor, or would you have me take you across my desk again?”

“Oh god, yes!” she breathed. She just wanted him in her, around her, consuming her.

“Tell me, Sherlock,” he slid his fingers in - three, this time, giving her a little stretch, calloused fingertips grazing her g-spot again while his thumb sought her clit. “Tell me where you want me to fuck you. Tell me where you want my cock.”

“The floor…I want you in me….please….” She could hardly think of the words she needed to say. All she wanted was to keep feeling this pleasure.

He gave her left buttock a swift bite before standing up, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean while he retrieved his pocket knife. “Cutting you loose. Get ready to put your feet down,” he said as he grabbed the ropes suspending her and cut through them neatly, slowly lowering her feet to the floor.

Sherlock’s feet touched the ground, but she could barely hold herself up. Instead, she let herself fall into a kneeling position as Ian cut her loose.

He smirked, seeing her so weak with desire. He undid the ties that held her arms behind her back, gave her a moment to flex and stretch. He quickly undid his waistcoat, tie and shirt, shrugging out of them and hanging them over the rack, then went for the button of his trousers, but stopped. “Here. You finish. Undress me,” he said as he stepped into her reach. “I want you to touch me.”

Still on her knees, Sherlock reached out to unbutton his trousers. She let the fly down and then slowly tugged down his trousers and pants. This was different than before. Last time he was still dressed. Now, Sherlock let her eyes go over every inch of exposed skin on Ian’s body.

He stood with his hands behind his head, dug into his dirty blond, almost honey-brown curls, lips tugged into a half smirk as she admired the whipcord-tight angles and planes of his body as it was revealed to her. “You must be very special, Ms. Holmes. I don’t strip for just anyone.”

“Why? Are you shy?” Sherlock looked up at him and returned his smirk with one of her own.

He laughed, genuinely laughed at that. “No, not at all. I’m in an industry, in a position, to help people overcome what makes them shy. The suit… Is power. A man in a suit is intimidating, powerful, shows intelligence and confidence.” He slid one hand down the center of his chest and belly and took his prick in hand, stroking himself a few times. “As you can see, Sherlock, I have little to be shy about.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, finally having the strength to support herself. With her body only inches from his, she reached down and took over stroking him, feeling the heat and weight of his prick in his hands. “No you certainly don’t,” she murmured against his lips.

His eyes narrowed, and he smirked again, not letting her know through any facial expression how good her hand felt on him. He brushed his nose against hers and nipped at her playfully as his hands slid across her throat, then down her chest, over her breasts. He cupped them, stroking her nipples to stiff peaks before moving his hands down, over her taut belly and finally to rest on her hips. “You have nothing to be shy about either, you know.” One hand snuck behind her and swatted her arse, not hard, but playful, bordering on affectionate.

“I do know. I’ve seen the way you look at me after all.” Sherlock leaned forward to bite at his neck lightly, remember what he had said earlier.

He fisted a hand in her hair as she bit at his neck, giving a soft growl as his prick twitched in her hand. “Ohh… you are attentive,” he practically purred as her teeth, even and sharp as his own, slid along his neck.

“It’s my job.” Sherlock’s strokes became firmer against him. She wanted to hear him moan.

“And you do it… exceptionally well,” he said as he gave her hair a tug and pushed his hips against her, the hold she had on his cock making him throb.

Sherlock hissed a bit when he pulled on her hair, but didn’t let go of his prick. She swiped her thumb over the tip, spreading the drop of precum and pushing down the foreskin.

He tugged her hair a little more firmly, arching her head back and exposing her neck, which he slid his lips down until he found her pulse point. “You taste… and smell… and look… and sound…. so magnificent,” he murmured against her skin before nipping at it. “And I want to be between your thighs. I want to be inside you. Pounding you. Hearing you moan in my ear. Feeling your cunt clench around my cock. I want to hear you scream when you come. And then I want you to come again,”

She was breathing heavily against him, her hands finally leaving his cock to grip him tightly around the waist. “Then why don’t you stop talking about it and actually do it?” she growled, grinding her hips against him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said as he released her hair just enough to slant his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely as he scooped her up, hands under her thighs and wrapping her around his waist as he carried her to the desk, setting her down on her well-smacked ass a bit unceremoniously. He continued kissing her, sucking her tongue, biting her lips roughly as one hand rooted around the top drawer for a condom, which he unwrapped and slid on completely blind. When he broke the kiss with a wet ‘smak’ he pushed her back so that she leaned on her elbows, hoisted one leg up to rest on his shoulder, aligned his cock and pressed into her in one smooth motion.

“Oh fuck!” Sherlock moaned, loving the sudden rush to enter her, to have her. She arched her back as he slid into her, her eyes watching his expression carefully.

He had her right where he wanted her, spread out on his desk, wrapped all around him. “Tell me how you want it,” he asked as he slid out halfway, slowly pressing in again.

“Rough and fast,” Sherlock breathed, letting her head fall back as he slid into her again.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said as he held her thigh in one hand, the other leaning on the desk as he bent over her, beginning to slide in and out at a rapid pace, driving deep with every stroke.

Sherlock now had the freedom to move and she moved her hips with each thrust, holding on tightly to the edge of his desk.

“Good girl… Take it…” He growled as he pounded her into the desk. “Talk to me. Moan for me,” he said, the hand latched to her thigh now traveling up to touch her face, her lips.

She moaned loudly. Letting her thigh fall off of his shoulder, Sherlock forced herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Harder,” she breathed into his ear. Both legs were now wrapped around him.

He wrapped his arms around her back and slid them down, holding onto her hips as he pushed himself even harder, each thrust deep and fast, and he used her hips, pulling her against him, to drive him as deep as his length would reach.

Sherlock dug her face into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. Stifling a moan, she bit into his shoulder. Hard.

“Ohh.. Harder. Bite harder.” he groaned into her ear as he held her tighter, his hips picking up speed yet again.

And she did just that. There would be a pretty row of dark purple teeth marks that would last for several days. A reminder of their encounter.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” he murmured, buying his face in her neck and licking the sweat from her skin as he continued his rapid, rough pace. “Come. Come on me. Come on my cock, you fucking brilliant, delicious creature. Come for me, let me feel you squeezing me, screaming my name, do it…”

It didn’t take long after that. Sherlock came crying out Ian’s name, her entire body trembling around him. Her vision went white and her mind wiped out for one blissful moment as her orgasm flooded over her.

He fucked her straight through her climax, loving the feel of her, tight and hot, rippling around him. When he could take no more, he slid in one last time, to the hilt, and came with her name among a host of deities on his lips.

Sherlock still held onto him tightly as they both came down from their orgasms. It was the only thing she was able to do at that moment.

He pushed into her a few more times before pulling out, disposing of the condom and sitting in his chair. He held her thighs apart and watched as her beautiful opening clenched and contracted from the remnants of her orgasm and he bent his head to lick her, broad, flat strokes along her labia, lapping up the fluids she’d spilled in her climax.

She moaned once more, almost too sensitive for it to be pleasurable. Falling back onto the desk, Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, relishing how blank and calm her mind was.

He continued to suck at her labia, lick between them, sucking gently at her clit as he slipped his fingers into her again.

“Oh god!” she gasped. He was going for a second round already….

He chuckled softly at her surprise, and worked his fingers in and out, a slow and shallow depth, while his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked steadily.

It didn’t take long for her to come again. She cried out incoherently while gripping tightly to the edge of the desk.

The feel of her coming around his fingers was almost as wonderful as her clenching around his cock and he slowly worked his fingers into her while she came, enjoying the sound of her loud cries, knowing he’d done his job right.

Sherlock closed her eyes and took deep breaths to steady herself. That had been…..amazing.

He withdrew his fingers and sucked them clean, bending his head to bite and suck a purple spot into the inside of both her thighs. “A bruise for a bruise,” he said softly.

She laughed softly and didn’t resist. It’s not like anyone else would see that particular mark.

He stood up, offering his hands to help her sit up. “You did so very well, pet. I am very proud of you,” he murmured as he gathered her up and hugged her, pressing a kiss to her sweaty brow.

“I’m still not your pet,” she murmured, though didn’t try to escape his embrace.

He narrowed his eyes at her and grinned. “Perhaps not. Though I hope it won’t be four months before I see you again.”

“I make no promises,” It was already apparent to both of them that she would be back though. No matter how long it took.

“Go on and get dressed,” he said with a knowing smile as he helped her off the desk. He gave her bottom a smack as he sent her off on her way.

A few minutes later, Sherlock returned once again dressed and refreshed.

He’d dressed himself as well, just trousers, with his shirt slipped on but left open, sleeves rolled to the elbow. “How do you feel?” He asked as she stepped back into the room.

“Good,” she said, “Calm.”

He smiled and nodded his head once. “Excellent. I have done exactly what I set out to do, then.”

And once again, they were back to their professional demeanor. “Thank you for your services, Mr. Adler.”

“It was my pleasure, Ms. Holmes.” He extended his hand to her, and when she took it he brought it to his lips. “Do let me know if you’ll require my services again, won’t you?” He murmured against her knuckles before releasing her hand, the tightly controlled, dark, seductive charm back in place.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Sherlock turned and headed for the door, “I’d rather catch you off your guard.” She smirked and left once more, except she knew she’d be coming back.

Sweaty, exhausted, and sated, he smirked after her and sank back down in his desk chair, picking up her card and flicking it with a chuckle. “Sherlock bloody Holmes. You’ll do my head in one of these days, woman,” he said to himself and to thin air.


End file.
